


Locked and Loaded

by Christhewitch



Series: A Court of Prompts and (Mostly) One-shots [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Can be other pairings if you squint, F/M, Laser Tag, Mor and Feyre Brotp, They take laser tag way too seriously, They will do whatever it takes to win, laser tag au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christhewitch/pseuds/Christhewitch
Summary: In which the Inner Circle takes laser tag way too seriously than it actually is....Also known as the Laser Tag AU no one wanted.





	Locked and Loaded

**Author's Note:**

> Laser Tag AU
> 
> The first of my ACOTAR drabbles (which will mostly contain Feysand ft. other pairings)
> 
> I don't own ACOTAR or any books in the series.

Before she had met Rhys and his friends, Feyre had never gone to laser tag. She had never really thought about it, though, too preoccupied with classes, family, and her at-the-time (douchebag) boyfriend. Someone had brought it up to Tamlin once, when they were both still dating, and he said something about the game being childish and pointless. She hadn't minded too much at the time, it had never really been on her bucketlist.

 

But _after_ she was adopted into a certain small tight nit group of friends...

 

“You're _dead_ , Cassian! You hear me? You are _dead_!” Mor seethed, hiding behind one of the maze walls beside Feyre.

 

“I'm coming for you, Mor,” Cassian practically cackled from the other side of the little arena they were set up in.

 

The blond just grumbled vulgar words under her breath, adjusting her vest.

 

“You okay?” Feyre asked, eyebrow arched. She had been hiding back here for the past few minutes, for the main purpose of shooting anyone from the red team that came too close to the blue territory for her liking. Only one person from the opposing team stumbled close enough, Lucien, but she had caught him off guard and was now officially out.

 

She had _no idea_ that this was what she had been missing out on her entire life.

 

“I'm almost out,” Mor explained breathlessly, pressing her head back against the black, carpeted wall. “I need to get to a station.”

 

Their recharging system. Which was on the other side, guarded by the opposing team.

 

Taking a chance, Feyre rose to a crouched position and peeked over the wall. Amren was relentless on Cassian, who was uselessly trying to find cover, Azriel was no where to be found (he had a habit of popping out from thin air and shooting until the person was out), Nesta was behind Mor and Feyre, guarding the red team's station, Elain and Lucien were off elsewhere—the only two out—and Rhys was on the opposite side, guarding the blue team's station.

 

She gritted her teeth. She had mainly avoided a direct fight with her boyfriend after she witnessed him almost causing Amren— _Amren—_ to get out when she had snuck over to the station (he still failed, but it was still an accomplishment in and of itself). And for someone like Feyre, who was no where near as agile or graceful or just overall _bloodthirsty_ as the tiny, black-haired girl, the thought kept her from wandering too close to the territory.

 

Quickly, she slid back down before anyone could see her. “Rhys is guarding it.”

 

Mor hit her head against wall, a scowl on her face. “Ugh, of course he is,” she grumbled. “I'm so dead, aren't I?”

 

The Archeron opened her mouth, preparing to dive into some words of encouragement a soldier would say to another on the battlefield (she learned that they took this game way, _way_ too seriously—not that she minded all that much, it made it all the more interesting). But before any words could tumble out, a devilish thought popped into her head.

 

The blond noticed the smirk curving the other's lips. “You've got an idea, don't you? Lay it on me, I'm not ready to die yet.” She said, hope lighting up her eyes.

 

“We've got to be quiet,” Feyre said instead, getting on her feet, still ducking behind her only source of defense, motioning Mor to follow suit.

 

They skirted around the main area of bloodless bloodshed. They witnessed Amren practically slaying Cassian, until he actually _rolled_ away and disappeared behind a wall, biting out curses. Mor just quietly snorted and muttered something about “deserving it” under her breath. Azriel popped up, slithering over to an unaware Nesta, but Feyre cocked her gun and shot at him over the wall, listening to the small _ping_ to let her know her shot counted, and ducked back down before he could see her. The sound would no doubt alert her sister of his presence.

 

All that was left now was Amren, Mor, Feyre, and Nesta against Rhys, Cassian and Azriel. Sure, Feyre's team outnumbered the other's, but the last three left were weapons in and of themselves.

 

After twisting around the walls and stealthily sliding through defenseless gaps without getting caught, the pair made it to their destination. Feyre scanned over the arena, finding everyone too preoccupied to notice the lack of her and Mor's presence, and grinned. She lifted a hand up to halt her partner in her spot and rose.

 

Two steps was all it took before she was right in front of Rhys—beautiful and focused, looking just about ready for anything to come his way. But when his eyes finally landed on her, she didn't give him a chance to process her appearance or what they were supposed to be doing.

 

She thread her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and pulled him down until his lips were crashing onto hers.

 

He hesitated for a second before she felt his arms circle her waist, felt the back of his gun pressed against her hip. The kiss felt like all their others did, endless with no sunset or sunrise, a force of nature sweeping out all of her senses until all she felt was _them_. Her fingertips ran up and then back down his scalp, and she felt his groan through her teeth, egging her on to go deeper and press him against her until no space was between them, nevermind the uncomfortable vests that hugged their torsos.

 

Given five more seconds, she probably would have forgotten the whole reason she was doing this, probably would have forgotten where they were even at...

 

“I got it!”

 

Mor's voice snapped Feyre out of her and Rhys'...session.

 

She stepped back, lifted her gun, and shot her boyfriend. It wasn't long until his cousin followed suit.

 

Rhys stood dumbfounded for a total of two seconds. By the time he cleared himself up, he was pouting at them and raising his own gun.

 

A noise alerted him he was out before he could even pull the trigger.

 

“I love you!” Feyre cried out in between laughs as a form of apology, her and Mor frantically sprinting away before Azriel or Cassion could notice what just went down.

 

“I'll get you for this, Feyre! I'll have my revenge!” Rhys called out playfully.

 

Didn't matter at this point. The blue team had it in the bag.

 


End file.
